


Giving Day

by ErinDarroch, JustineGraham



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Love, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22033222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinDarroch/pseuds/ErinDarroch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustineGraham/pseuds/JustineGraham
Summary: 'Tis the season to be naughty. On Giving Day Eve, Han discovers that good things really do come in small packages. Han x Leia romance; heavy on the smut, but light and festive at heart. :) Co-written with Justine Graham.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Giving Day

**Author's Note:**

> NB: None of our stories track with Disney canon. We hatesss it, preciousss.

_Happy Giving Day, Han_ , read the scrap of flimsi stuck to the apartment door. _Your gift is waiting for you under the festival tree._

Han Solo’s heart sank. 

Reaching for the note, he broke the weak magnetic force that held the papery foil to the metallic surface and stared at it for a moment before crumpling it into a ball with a grimace, and then shoving it into his pocket. A note like that could only mean one thing—Leia was pulling another all-nighter at the embassy, no doubt tied up with the business of reviewing crucial policy details that would have to be finalized before the start of the Galactic new year. That sort of thing had happened before, and Han didn’t usually have a problem being left to his own devices for an evening…. 

But on _Giving Day Eve?_

He glanced down at the palm-sized parcel he held in his other hand, which he had personally adorned with glittering metallic ribbon and an elaborate swirl of silver bow, and felt a pang of disappointment. They hadn’t actually discussed it, but Han had naturally assumed they would spend this special night—their first as a couple—alone together. He had imagined a romantic evening, just the two of them, under the twinkling lights of the festival tree…. 

Inwardly, he scoffed at himself, shaking his head at his own sentimentality, especially because he was standing here mooning over a holiday he’d never bothered celebrating at all before they’d met.

But there was nothing for it. Leia’s work was vital to the successful establishment of the new galactic government, and gods knew the demands on Han’s own time kept them apart just as much. It was simply a fact of life in these busy post-Imperial days, and there wasn’t much they could do about it. 

_Oh well,_ he thought, with an inward sigh. _Maybe tomorrow. Even the Provisional Council has to take a break for_ a galaxy-wide holiday _, right?_

Shrugging off his irritation, he palmed the door control and stepped inside. 

The scent of fresh pine struck him the instant the door released. The air was redolent with it, sharp and full and heady. The foyer lights had been dimmed to their lowest setting, but enough of a glow remained that he could make out dual swags of lush evergreen boughs adorning both sides of the foyer, leading in high, graceful arcs from the main door to the sunken living room beyond, just out of sight. He gaped up at the pretty arrangements for a long moment, distracted by the inane question of where in Hanna City—and how in the midst of her hectic work schedule—Leia had managed to find and hang fresh green garlands. His gaze swept down the hall, noting with interest that the fragrant greenery had been interwoven with twinkling lights, and the bottom curve of each swag was adorned with a tiny golden ornament in the shape of a delicate snowflake. He let out a chuff of surprise, then immediately snapped out of his trance as the realization hit him that if Leia had had time to decorate, then she must have been home for a while… and _that_ meant—. 

A happy grin broke across his face as he hurried to divest himself of blaster, jacket and boots, then took up his gift-wrapped parcel once more and padded down the hall in search of his sweetheart. 

As he approached the lounge, faint strands of festive music reached his ears and the scent of pine gave way gradually to warmer notes of cinnabar and vineapple spice. He chuckled to himself, thinking that things were beginning to feel very merry indeed—then stopped short as he rounded the corner and the room came fully into view. 

Nothing could have prepared him for it: the sight of Leia, her lithe body completely bare save for a few strategically placed strips of wide, velvety golden ribbon, reclining against soft cushions, atop a pallet of fleecy blankets at the foot of their sparkling festival tree. In response to his arrival, she tilted up onto her side, propped her head in one hand and gave him a warm smile. 

“Happy Holidays, Hotshot.” 

Han’s heart slammed against his ribs as he took in the scene, his mouth falling open in happy shock. _Yep, she is definitely half naked,_ he noted with a flush of gleeful anticipation. Letting his eyes roam freely over the swells and curves of her nearly bare figure, he tried to come up with some response to her greeting, but found his mind was a perfect blank. The only thing he could do was gape in frank admiration. Leia’s dark hair was unbound, tumbling in pretty disarray over her shoulders, and the broad ribbons obscuring her breasts and hips gleamed gold under the shining lights of the tree. He stood there for what felt like an endless moment, struck dumb by the sight. 

Still smiling, Leia shifted up onto one hand and let the other come to rest upon her thigh, every movement of her beribboned body drawing winks and twinkles of reflected light from the nearby tree. The sight of her there waiting for him, with her shapely legs arranged _just so_ in an alluring pose of delicious invitation, set Han’s blood aflame and sent it careening sharply southward, abandoning his suddenly addled brain. He knew he was staring, that his mouth was working soundlessly as he struggled for something to say, but he couldn’t help it. And anyway, he didn’t have words for what he was seeing; only want.

Carnal desire swept through him in a torrent and he felt his body harden so fast it was almost painful. But underneath that physical surge he also felt a flood of heartfelt gratitude for his tremendous good fortune. He sent up a wordless prayer of thanks to the gods of the galaxy or the spirit of Giving Day, to the power of the Force or to his own dumb luck— _whatever_ it was that had somehow led him to this extraordinary woman and allowed him to be part of her life. 

Finally, conscious that the princess was still awaiting some response, he managed to latch on to a single coherent thought as it drifted through his head. “Wow,” he said, feebly brandishing his gift-wrapped parcel. “And all I got you was this little—.”

Leia held up a forestalling hand, and then smiled and cocked her head to one side with a look of happy amusement. Her face caught the glow of the tree lights as she moved, and set her dark eyes shimmering in the half-light, a warm complement to the shining golden ribbons that encircled her petite frame. 

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” she said. “And besides...surely that’s not the _only_ thing you’re going to ‘give’ me?” 

Han let out a deep laugh, delighted as always by a glimpse of Leia’s bawdy side; it was an aspect of herself she showed only to him, and he relished the privilege. 

“I’ve been a very good girl this year,” she added richly, giving him an arch of one fine eyebrow. 

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that,” he grinned as he stepped down and crossed over to her, his socked feet soundless on the plush pile of the living room carpet. He set the gift down on a side table and sauntered forward. “I know.” 

“So, does that mean I get everything on my wish list?” she queried, tilting her head back to look up at him as he came to a halt before her. 

“Sweetheart, you can have anything you want,” he said, and meant it. He hooked a thumb in his belt and allowed his eyes to roam over her again in open appreciation of her beauty as his pulse tripped into doubletime. 

Leia’s smile widened. “Anything?” 

“Anything.” 

“All right then,” she said. “Take off your clothes.” 

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Inflamed by her softly spoken command, he swiftly tugged the hem of his shirt up, then stripped the garment off and tossed it aside before dropping his hands down to his belt buckle, intent on carrying out her directive at once. But there was something about the way she was looking at him that made his fingers forget what they were doing and, in his haste, he found himself fumbling with the metal clasp. Muttering a muted curse, he frowned down at his task.

Leia cocked one eyebrow. "Having trouble, Flyboy?” she observed. “Here, let me help.” 

The swathes of ribbon that barely adorned her curves shimmered and sparkled as she shifted upright and then rose to her knees. Han had an instant to wonder how she was keeping the golden strips in place before she reached out for him. He let his hands fall slack at his sides as she snagged him by his belt loops and then gave a gentle tug, urging him nearer. Heart pounding in a driving rhythm, he eased forward a step and closed the narrow gap between them, then watched in breathless anticipation as Leia began unfastening his trousers with practiced ease, deftly working first the belt buckle and then the clasp. 

But, oh, she was _sly_ about it—moving at a deliberately languid pace and casting occasional glances up at him through the fringe of her lashes, biting her bottom lip and amplifying his aching need tenfold. The faint strains of holiday music faded away and even the ambient lights seemed to dim as Han’s awareness focused to a pinpoint. Every movement of Leia’s nimble fingers ratcheted his tension up a notch as she teased him with light yet purposeful brushes against the taut fabric that held him fast. With his blood now thundering in his ears, it was all he could do to hold himself in check, resisting the urge to bear her backwards and down to the pallet, to tear away those shiny strands of ribbon and leave them as glittering shreds on the pillow-strewn floor. 

By the time she finished with the clasp of his trousers and moved down to the zipper, Han could barely focus and his ears were ringing. She took her time with that step, too, extending the delicious torment and making his breaths come hard and fast. Unable to still his hands any longer, he threaded his fingertips through her silken hair, groaning as she eased the zipper down a halting centim at a time. The vibrating scrape of tiny metal teeth against his rigid length made his hips surge forward of their own accord and, dimly, he heard the sound of Leia’s light laughter. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity spent in sweet anticipation, she pushed the garment down his hips, taking his underwear with it and leaving him fully exposed to the warm air. Growing impatient with the pace, Han took over the task of disrobing, bending to hurriedly shove everything down and off, then stripping away his socks and kicking the pile to one side, just as Leia leaned in and returned her attention to his body. This time, though, she didn’t make him wait. With one hand guiding his hip and the other wrapped around his length, she brought him, straining, to her pursed lips, and gave him a loving kiss. 

_Fuck yes,_ was all he could think in that moment, staring down at her with fevered lust. On a deeper level he felt a resurgence of gratitude so strong it made his head swim; not because of what she was about to do to him—although he was very happy about that—but because she _wanted_ to; because it was evident that she craved him the way he craved her; because when she touched him like that, he knew nothing but love. And still, after almost a year together since the victory at Endor, he had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that this was his life and he got to spend it with her. The festive tableau she’d arranged had taken time and effort to pull together, and she’d gone to considerable lengths to surprise and delight him, but it was the loving tenderness in her touch, the unabashedly eager way she kissed and caressed him now that made Han feel like a god of the galaxy, and the luckiest man who had ever lived. 

And then she took him fully into her mouth and he lost his mind, erased in an instant by white-hot immersion in a pleasure so intense it made him shudder. He gave himself up for a moment to the firm pressure of her mouth encompassing him and the hot swirl of her tongue, groaning at the little hum in the back of her throat that sent vibrations shivering through his flesh as she drew him deeply inward with gentle, inexorable suction.

Han wanted to watch. He _tried_ to watch, but it was all too much. He could manage only quick glimpses downward, overwhelmed by slick sensation and by the sight of Leia’s dark head beginning to move back and forth in a slow and steady rhythm.

It was bliss. Pure bliss. She knew him so well, body and mind; knew how to stroke and tease him wild—and she never failed to entice them both to a fever pitch. But it was the way she conveyed her own enjoyment of his pleasure and their deep connection that truly drove him to the limits of his endurance. He could feel it in the way she met his gaze in flickering glimpses of upturned eyes, dark and brilliant, and filled with adoration. The pressure building up inside Han mounted to an exquisite peak and then, as he shot to the cusp of magnificent—but outrageously premature—obliteration, she released him and withdrew, leaving him thrumming and bereft, slack-jawed and gasping for air. 

“What about you?” she queried archly, as she sat back on her heels and cocked her head at him, a knowing and mirthful gleam in her eyes. “Have you been a good boy this year?” 

A short laugh escaped Han then—in part because he was surprised by her return to lighthearted banter and in part because he was relieved that she had relented in her physical affections for a moment. He wouldn’t have been capable of halting her loving assault for all the credits on Coruscant, but he also didn’t want their romantic evening to end scarcely five minutes after it had begun, and he knew that if she had continued for a minute longer, that might well have been the outcome. Still breathing hard, he grinned down at her upturned face, and gamely tried to match her playful tone. 

“I thought I was on your ‘naughty’ list, Your Highness,” he said, “after that business with the Bothan ambassador….” 

“Oh, you _are_ on the ‘naughty’ list,” she assured him. “But not for that.” 

“For what, then?”

“For keeping me waiting so long. I was starting to get cold, dressed in nothing but this,” she gestured with a sweep of her hand at her festive but scanty apparel. 

He let his appreciative gaze roam over her body from head to toe. The handspan ribbon that swirled around her curves hid all of the parts he was most desperate to see, and it was driving him crazy in the best way. The engineer in him noted with interest that the ensemble appeared to be a cleverly crafted item of lingerie—no doubt a gift from their shopkeeper friend in Dorthus Tal. He chewed his lip, considering the most efficient way to get it off of her, since she probably wouldn’t want it destroyed.... 

“If you’d been much later,” Leia continued with a casual shrug, “I might have taken matters into my own hands.” 

Han’s eyes shot back to her face as heat bloomed low in his belly once more. He recognized a challenge when he heard one—and he wasn’t about to let that one slide. “Huh,” he said, in as matter-of-fact a tone as his constricted throat would allow. “Is that right, Your Worship? Show me.” 

Leia smiled—a wily, roguish sort of smile—and then reclined back against the pillows and ran her fingertips down her body in a meandering path that followed the curves of the ribbons against her flesh. Keeping her eyes on Han’s face, she slipped one hand down over her hipbone and then between her legs, easing slender fingers under the velvet edge there. Han’s gaze became riveted to the spot, his own body surging with renewed desire as he watched the hidden motions of her hand, obscured by the shimmer of gold. After a long moment, a breathless moan drew his eyes back to Leia’s face, and the sight of her dark eyes fluttering shut, her luscious mouth falling softly open, finally broke his dumbfounded trance. 

Dropping to one knee between her planted feet, he ran a hand up her inner thigh, tacitly asking for permission to take over. She gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, consent and invitation gleaming in those darkened depths even before she offered an approving smile. Withdrawing her hand from the junction of her thighs, she reached out blindly to snag a nearby cushion, then dragged it under her lifted hips. 

Han grinned as he settled on his heels between her knees, admiring the way she presented herself to him, utterly trusting and without reservation; it was easily the best damn gift he had ever received. The arresting image of her laid nearly bare before him, breathlessly awaiting his touch, created a desire in him that was almost too powerful to resist. He struggled for a moment against the recurring urge to tear away the glossy trimmings that obscured her body from his view—but he wanted to make this last, and to tease her into a passionate frenzy just as she’d tormented him. 

So, instead, he reached out with purposeful nonchalance to toy with the strip of fabric draped diagonally across her torso, a satin-edged strand of gold that notionally connected the upper half of the outfit to the bottom. He slipped a fingertip beneath its topmost border and trailed it gently to one side, noting with pleasure how Leia reacted as the fabric rasped softly over her flesh. Then he withdrew, and hooked the same fingertip into the gap in the ribbon between her breasts. He tugged gently, and made a show of tipping forward and peering underneath it from above, shutting one eye and leaning in close in an exaggerated effort to catch a glimpse of what treasures lay hidden beneath the glittering material. 

Leia laughed softly. “What are you waiting for?” she asked. “Don’t you want to unwrap me?” 

“All in good time,” Han replied, and then repeated his scrutiny beneath the ribbon’s lower edge, chuckling as his touch raised a visible shiver in her flesh. “I like to examine my gifts first, you know, try to figure out what’s inside….” 

Leia’s tone turned dry. “I hope you’re not going to pick me up and shake me.” 

Han arched an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know, Sweetheart. I may give you a ‘shake’ or two before the night is through.” 

That comment elicited another rich laugh from Leia, which was quickly swallowed up in a sigh as he leaned down to nuzzle the shadowy cleft between her breasts. He kissed the swell of soft flesh there, then nibbled his way up her throat and along her jaw line, grinning with pleasure when he felt her shift to accommodate his frame as he settled between her thighs. 

The rasp of the lower band of ribbon against his own bare flesh was mildly distracting, interfering as it did with the touch of her skin. Mindlessly, he pressed his hips forward, feeling the heat of her pulsing against him through the velvet barrier; it was enough to make him groan. Leia tipped her face to his, clearly seeking a kiss on the mouth, but he denied her for a moment, dropping a kiss instead on the tip of her nose and then laying a trail of soft caresses along the curve of her cheek. Dipping down to nuzzle her ear and the sensitive hollow just behind, he was only trying to buy himself a little time to strengthen his grip on his faltering sense of self-control. 

But Leia wanted a proper kiss, and she wasn’t going to be deferred for long. A small sound of protest escaped her, and she rolled her hips slowly against him, generating an exquisite friction that sent frissons of pleasure coursing up the length of Han’s spine. When she breathed his name in urgent entreaty, he groaned again, feeling the remaining shreds of his composure fall away. 

_Ah, who the hell am I kidd—_

Before he could complete the thought, Leia framed his face in both hands and dragged his mouth down to hers. 

And what a kiss it was—the first proper kiss of the evening. Molten; incandescent enough to match the fiery heat blooming between them where their bodies were intimately aligned. As their tongues tangled together in deliciously intimate caress, Han heard another tortured sound escape his throat. He wanted so badly to reach down, push the lower fabric aside and take her now, hard and fast. And the way Leia was arching her hips against him, urging him on with wordless expression of her own frenzied need, he reckoned she would meet that action with eager approval. 

To tame the raging flame of desire that threatened to consume them both, or at least tamp it back to a slower burn, he forced his attention back to the kiss and tried to block out the sensations the princess was eliciting with her movements down below. He was trying like hell to set a more languid pace, but Leia was hungry. She kissed him deeply, teasing him with delicate flicks of her tongue against his as she angled her body to get closer still. When she dragged one leg up to drape over his hip and ground herself hard against him, he lost the capacity for anything more articulate than an anguished moan. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and it would be so easy to go there with her, right now _…_. 

But _no_. No, _not yet._ It was Giving Day Eve, and Han’s wish list was not yet complete. 

By force of will, he dragged his lips away from hers and then, rising up slightly to balance his weight on elbows and knees, began kissing his way down her neck instead, methodically lavishing affection on every centim of skin along his trajectory. Her soft skin was flushed and warm beneath his lips as he descended, following the curve of her throat and leaving a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses in his wake. At the base of her throat he paused and stroked his tongue across the little hollow there, eliciting a shudder and a soft laugh from Leia. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she gasped. “You haven’t finished opening your gift yet.”

“I’m workin’ on it,” Han returned, glancing up to flash a wicked grin at her amused expression before continuing his downward movement. “I’m just gettin’ into the holiday spirit. What’s the saying? Better to give than to receive, or something like that?”

When his lips met the topmost edge of the golden ribbon that angled across her torso, he paused once more, frowning slightly. Then he drew back, his keen eyes flicking back and forth across the gilded band as he searched for the hidden fasteners he felt certain must be holding it in place. Spying nothing at first, Han shifted upward and brought his weight to bear on his knees.

Leia’s low laugh bubbled up to his ears. “Having trouble again?” she queried, raising both arms overhead to rest amongst the assortment of pillows there.

“Nope. Just doin’ what any good spacer does in a predicament: switching to hands-on mode.” 

Leia’s answering chuckle caught in her throat as Han tipped forward and cupped her breasts in both palms, teasing the nipples through the thin velvet, squeezing and stroking them to taut peaks before splaying his hands outward, following the expanse of ribbon where to where it curved along her sides. It wasn’t long before he located the row of tiny fasteners that held the fabric closed, deftly flicked them open with one hand, and then slowly peeled the ribbon back.

“Wow,” he breathed, allowing his appreciative gaze to roam over her newly-exposed flesh. “I love it. You really shouldn’t have….” Then he settled down and lowered his head to draw one taut nipple into his mouth, closing his lips around it and circling his tongue around the pebble-hard tip. 

“Oh,” Leia gasped, arching beneath him, as her breathing grew heavier. “On second thought, it’s only Giving Day Eve,” she tried, her voice faint and her tone wholly unconvincing. “You’re supposed to wait until tomorrow to open your gifts.” 

Han chuckled as he released her and then moved his attention to her other breast, cupping it in one warm palm and giving the stiffened nipple a gentle brush with his thumb. “No chance, Sweetheart. Anyway, we Corellians do things differently.” He curled his tongue around the rigid tip, then applied light suction with his lips, swirling his tongue until he heard her moan. Releasing the sensitive flesh with a faint pop, he grinned up at her flushed face, attentively noting the telltale signs. “All the celebrating and ceremonials happen the night before. The holiday itself is spent watching smashball and eating everything in sight,” he told her. 

“Eating... everything…” she echoed faintly, dark eyes dancing, her voice laced with mirth. 

“Yes, that’s right, Princess,” he affirmed with a low laugh. “Everything in sight.” 

He dived down and continued nibbling his way across the trembling plane of her abdomen, peppering her pale skin with tiny smooches and shifting downward as he went, until he was settled more comfortably on his stomach, with the weight of his upper body resting on his elbows. Now nearer to his ultimate destination, he pressed a kiss to her bare hipbone, then ran an investigative finger along the top edge of the remaining ribbon, slung low across her hips. Feeling the stretch of hidden elastic give way under his fingertips, he smiled. That piece would be easy enough to remove in due course—but first, he wanted to extend their little game. Above all, he wanted to give Leia the same pleasure she had so readily given to him. 

The heat radiating from her was almost enough to scorch his lips as he bent his head low and pressed a reverent kiss through the rich fabric against the crux of her body. Leia reacted as if she’d been touched by a live current, giving a sharp intake of breath as her hips rose reflexively to meet his intimate caress. Han lingered there and nuzzled gently against the velvet, breathing in the essence of her and groaning against his own body’s powerful response. He was so hard now, so ready for her, that it was almost too much to bear. He was adamant that Leia would be satisfied before he allowed himself release, though, because he knew that when they got to that point, there was no way in Nine Hells he was going to last for long. 

Growling low in his throat, he wrenched himself away and sat back, then slid his hands around the taut curve of her hips, seeking the fabric edge of the beribboned briefs. Finding it, he dragged the garment gently downward, finally removing the last of the festive wrapping that stood between himself and full appreciation of his gift. With a bit of help from Leia, what remained of the pretty ensemble was quickly reduced to a jumble of glittering scraps in his hands, which he promptly tossed aside, and then turned his attention back to his prize.

Keen to extend the pleasure of the interlude, he remained sitting on his heels for a moment and let his eyes rake over Leia’s curves, taking in the shapely contours of her legs, the thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs; the graceful arcs of hip and waist and the lovely swell of her breasts. He lifted his eyes to her face, drinking in the sight of her, flushed and lightly panting, her dark eyes alight with desire and love. He lingered there longer than intended, transfixed, as his hands softly stroked the delicate skin of her inner thighs. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her—beautiful, _yes_ ; she was absolute perfection from head to toe—but she was more than that. She was everything he could ever have wanted, if he’d even dared to wish for such a gift.

“Well?” Leia’s rich voice floated to his ears, breaking his trance. “What do you say, Hotshot? Do you think it will fit?” 

Han choked on a startled exclamation that turned into a squawk, and then a full-blown belly laugh. Seeing how she beamed at him, clearly delighted with her own jest, he threw his head back and laughed some more. When he finally looked back down at her, she was gazing up at him with triumph and adoration shimmering in her deep brown eyes and it struck him then, as it often did, like a solid punch to the solar plexus, that she loved him; she really, really did. The evidence of it in her unabashed gaze—and its answering echo deep within himself—stoked his already-heightened desire for her to a fever pitch. 

“So,” she queried at length, hands drifting up to caress her own breasts in a gesture Han found almost unbearably erotic. “Do you like your present?” 

“I love it,” he said with solemn sincerity. 

“I’m glad” she murmured back, holding his gaze. 

“In fact, it looks amazing,” he continued, willing his voice to sound unaffected, and then flashed her a wicked grin. “But I can’t help but wonder if it _tastes_ as good as it looks. Guess I better find out for myself....”

Leia gave a happy sigh and settled back among the pillows, while Han, his pulse high with desire and anticipation, turned his attention back to task. Intent on taking his time, he ran a hand up the smooth length of her inner thigh to the warm, bare center of her and let his cupped palm rest there, reveling in her radiant heat for a moment before tracing the delicate cleft with a feather-light brush of his fingertips. Distantly, he heard Leia release another sigh as he exerted gentle pressure, gradually coaxing her open with his reverent touch. He found her more than ready, slick against his fingers, swollen and hot, and he had to pause for a moment to gather his self-restraint.

“I’ve been thinking about you...about this...all day,” Leia breathed, parting her thighs a little wider for him. 

“Mmmm,” he smiled. ”I can tell.” He continued his tactile exploration, experience and intuition guiding his careful movements. Listening intently to sounds from above, he gloried in the hitch of Leia’s breathing, and smiled to himself at her sighs and shudders when he delved a little deeper. He introduced a finger, then turning his hand to bring the broad pad of his thumb into play, grinned with satisfaction at the sound of her answering moan. She was so warm and wet, so ready and obviously aching for him—and despite his fervent wish to extend the moment, he simply couldn’t hold himself at bay any longer. Sliding his free hand under to support her hips, he dipped his head low, and let go of conscious thought. 

The scent of her was intoxicating, the taste of her divine. Even better were the sounds she made as he touched and tongued her, and the quivers in her flesh he could feel as he brought his intimate knowledge of her to bear. He knew her as well as she knew him: how to stroke and tease; how to bring her just to the peak of release and then hold her there, trembling at the brink, prolonging her torment with slow strokes of his fingertips and languid sweeps of his tongue. Leia writhed against him, threading her fingers in his hair and urging him on with low moans and pleading whispers, and he was happy to oblige. There was nothing more gratifying than making his sweetheart lose her mind—and for a long while he lost his mind, too, giving himself over to the intoxicating thrill of making her come undone. 

At length, a keening moan cut through the haze and he flicked his eyes upward, traversing the length of her slowly undulating body to rest upon her face, seeking the signs that would tell him the distance remaining to his goal. His heart did a flip at the intensely erotic sight of her dark head thrown back against the pallet, lips parted, her breath coming in short gasps, even as he continued his steady ministrations. Although he would never breathe a word of it to her, he found that bringing Leia to orgasm was akin to flying the _Falcon_ through a particularly tricky bit of space—it took some of the same skills, at any rate, as well as keen perception and a degree of patience _._ He had to pay attention to multiple signals, read every twitch and sigh, and expertly gauge the tension in her—all to find that perfect combination of pressure and friction that would send her rocketing into hyperspace. Listening to the sounds of Leia’s frantic breathing now, and her faltering attempts at words, he knew she was almost there. 

Her fingers raked across his upper back and clutched at his shoulders, and he was vaguely aware of the bite of her nails as they dug into his skin—but he didn’t care. He urged her on, murmuring encouragement and a string of heartfelt words against her swollen flesh, alternatively fretting her with the tip of his tongue and delivering broad, firm strokes that made her whine and groan. He kept her close for a long time, using lips and tongue, fingers and thumb in a complex and erratic pattern that was nevertheless steady and solid in its own way, winding her tighter and tighter until, finally, she locked. Her whole body went rigid and Han nearly hit lightspeed along with her, so intense was the feeling of her quaking and shuddering under his loving control. He stayed with her as she arched, and didn’t stop what he was doing until she cried out and then abruptly pulled away, thighs closing together as she rolled to one side, whimpering in pleasure. Han sat up, rocked back on his heels and watched the beautiful aftermath with a gratified grin. 

As Leia fell back, smiling, against the pillows once more, breathless and spent, her limbs akimbo, Han leaned over to snag his discarded shirt, using it to wipe his flushed face and blot the light sheen of perspiration from his chest and throat. 

Watching her recover, he realised, somewhat to his surprise, that he would be perfectly content to end the interlude now, if she wished it, so besotted with her was he, and so deeply gratified by the way she reacted to his touch. Her response alone was a glorious gift and, looking at her now, ravished and aglow with the lights of the festival tree playing across her skin, he couldn’t have asked for anything more. 

But that wasn’t the only thing she wanted from him—not tonight, nor any other night. Having had a moment to regain her strength, Leia reached for him now in silent and compelling invitation, and Han didn’t hesitate. He crawled forward, moving over her recumbent form and meeting her offered kiss even as he settled once again into the welcoming cradle of her thighs, this time with no barrier at all between them. Skin to skin, they kissed with languorous sensuality; Leia in a post-orgasmic haze and Han completely intoxicated by her. He allowed his weight to rest more fully against her and found that both of their bodies were so ready it took only the slightest tilt of her hips and he slid, slick and tight, all the way home. The sensation was exquisite, blinding in its intensity, and he took a moment to catch his breath before sliding out of her and thrusting in again. The movement drew heavy groans from them both, and then their mouths met again, tongues stroking together in sensual imitation of their union below. Unable to resist the compulsion any longer, Han broke the kiss and began to move within her in earnest, soon setting up a steady rhythm that had the princess writhing beneath him, planting her heels and arching up to meet him, every thrust of her hips a perfect counterpoint to his deep and measured strokes. 

“Oh,” she gasped against his throat, “that is _the best._ ” 

He grinned in agreement as they continued to move together in fluid harmony, eyes catching and sparking their delight, in between heated kisses and murmured words of love. Enveloped in the slippery heat of her, Han marveled—not for the first time—at how seamlessly they fit together, and just how quickly she could push him to the edge. Already aching with need before their joining, it wasn’t long before he felt the familiar pull of sensation, white-hot and urgent, start to build. He slowed his tempo, his rhythm faltering as he gathered every shred of his inner resolve to make the moment last. He rocked his hips more slowly, languidly, making shallower thrusts and clinging to the slender thread that bound him to his self control. 

And then the princess wrapped her limbs around him tightly, stretched up and whispered something in his ear. 

The softly uttered erotic command unleashed something wild in Han that he lost all power to control. He’d held himself in check for so long, and her spoken missive was all he needed to give himself over to primal need. His breathing grew ragged, and he began to move within her with heavy intent, grunting his exertion at the height of each driving thrust. Leia kept up with him, spurring him on with a few whispered words of entreaty at first, and then a hot tide of carnal urgings that turned his blood to liquid fire and sent it thundering through his veins. He quickened the pace to a fevered pitch then, his thrusts growing exponentially more powerful, driving home again and again until Leia was flushed and panting with every stroke. 

Han was perilously close, but not too far gone to read her signs. Her half-lidded eyes grew hazy, taking on that look of absolute abandon that he craved and adored. No longer capable of coherent speech, her fierce whisperings dwindled to half-choked words and inarticulate sounds of pure pleasure as her entire body tensed, drawing taut as a wire. 

“I’m... I’m going to….” 

When Leia pushed a hand down between them and added the expert flicker of her fingertips to the intensely erotic moment, Han was lost. Feeling her body quake around him with the force of her release, he rocketed hard and fast up to the verge of the brink, and then shot headlong into the exosphere, escaping the force of gravity with her as they hurtled towards the stars. 

Soaring up and up with Leia through that endless, airless celestial expanse, Han felt the gleaming presence of something he could almost call divine—a glimpse, perhaps, of the mysterious dimension that he now accepted as real, but had never touched. It was profound, transcendent, and utterly breathtaking, and they lingered there together for a glorious, heart-stopping moment, before Han’s lungs finally engaged again and he fell away with a gasp, tumbling back down to vibrant reality. 

And reality was enough. More than enough—it was everything. Chest heaving, he buried his head for a moment in the hollow of Leia’s neck, inhaling the beautiful scent of her as he fought to catch his breath. When he propped himself up at last and saw her exhilarated smile, he felt a swell of love so strong it made his vision blur. This connection with Leia was easily the most precious treasure he had ever possessed; it was the only thing the would ever truly need. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, mutually affirming and ineffably tender. 

When they parted at last, Han rolled carefully away to stretch out atop the rumpled pallet of blankets, settling on his side with one arm bent beneath his head. Still breathing hard, he let his eyes roam over Leia from head to toe, pleased to see how rapturously happy she looked. Her cheeks were splotchy, her lips were swollen and her hair was a riotous mess, but she was gazing at him with such naked adoration, her eyes so alight with joy, he thought his heart might burst. 

“ _You_ ,” she began, then turned onto her side to face him, and propped her tousled head up on one hand. “You have been a _very_ good boy,” she declared with a breathless laugh, resuming her lighthearted jest, her dark eyes atwinkle. 

Han grinned. “I’m glad you think so, Princess.” 

“Yes, I do,” she said. “And I have decided that you can have _everything_ on your wish list.” 

Han’s smile turned slightly wistful then, feeling a pang of some deep emotion that he couldn’t quite identify. Fleetingly, he wished he were the type of person who could easily reach and articulate the powerful sentiments that lurked deep inside. He would readily pour his heart out to this woman, he mused, if he thought mere words would ever suffice. But such forms of communication had never been his strong suit—and, anyway, she knew. 

“Sweetheart,” he said. Reaching out, he rested a hand atop her bare hip, light-spangled and warm under his resting palm. When she arched a brow and met his gaze with a sated, contented smile, he said quietly, but with all his heart, “Everything on my wish list is right _here_.” 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> We wish you all a joyous festive season filled with all of your favourite things, and a very Happy New Year when it comes. Xoxo JG & ED 


End file.
